Things That Go Bump in the Night
by Cephus
Summary: Draco literally cries himself to sleep each night, musing over his current position as a Slytherin, and what is expected of him. An owl to the Gryffindor trio of Harry, Ron, and Hermione may forever change his life.
1. Default Chapter

Hey all, 

This is my first attempt at fan fiction and my first creative writing exercise in over 25 years. This first chapter has been reworked to give a bit more detail of young Draco's home life.

Be kind, but critical.

Thanks!

All characters with exception of Professor Phinnias Howell belong to J.K. Rowling.

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**Things That Go Bump in the Night**

CHAPTER 1

Though it was only eight in the evening, Draco Malfoy excused himself from his companions in the Slytherin common room. This was becoming a frequent practice, as he was really growing weary of their company. Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson were doubling over in laughter with their crude jokes, and Draco was privately quite sick of it. Always keeping his composure, no one suspected anything was amiss. Though his companions thought among themselves that his recent behavior was odd, they treaded lightly with their questions. Draco could have a quick and often violent temper if he were probed too deeply.

"Gits," he mumbled to himself as he walked towards the dormitory. "If brains were grains of sand, the hourglass would be empty among that lot," referring to his housemates.

Once in the Slytherin dormitory, Draco removed his school robes, neatly stowed them in his trunk, and dressed for bed. He was relieved to be the only one in the dormitory, which was often the case this early in the evening. The others were still involved in their silliness in the common room. He found his bed to be among the better places to gather his thoughts, and he had been doing a lot of thinking lately.

Though the dormitory was currently empty, he kept his wand at hand, ready to hex anyone who dare throw his bed curtains open, interrupting his sleep or private thoughts. Both Crabbe and Goyle learned their lesson several nights ago, requiring a late night visit to Madame Pomfry as porcupine quills sprouted all over their bodies. They had made the dangerous mistake of roughly throwing his curtains wide open with a torrent of their guffawing laughter. Most of the Slytherins fully understood that Draco was not to be disturbed abruptly when his bed curtains were drawn. If he were needed, one spoke gently to awaken him, and awaited an answer.

As he lay in his bed, many thoughts entered his mind that led to his current state of unhappiness.

Draco had not been overly tolerant of the other houses at Hogworts. In fact, he was usually the first one to antagonize others. He would especially torment the inseparable Gryffindor trio of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. He held a special loathing, or so he thought towards Potter - the boy who lived, the hero of the wizarding world who defeated Lord Voldemort, and the person responsible for his father's imprisonment in Azkaban. Though not Potter's fault, Draco's father had often chastised him anytime Potter bested him – be it marks or quidditch. Second best was not good enough for Lucius Malfoy.

Now though, as he lay thinking, he was not especially upset that his father was in Azkaban. Potter may have actually granted him a reprieve from his father's continuous taunts. For this he was actually thankful. Though Draco loved his father dearly, Lucius was not exactly the ideal father figure. Lucius was a Death Eater, and an ardent supporter of Lord Voldemort. Never one to praise or hug his only child, he expected absolute perfection and absolute compliance of his every wish. To disobey was unthinkable, and when he couldn't meet his father's expectations, the reprimand was harsh. It was in fact demanded of Draco that he take the mark of a Death Eater when he came of age. He was to give his life and full devotion to Voldemort. He had news for his father, though. He would give up his life fighting before ever accepting the mark, and he'd fight against everything that Voldemort stood for.

Lucius also abhorred Muggles, Mudbloods, half-bloods, and any wizard family that was not pureblood. He looked forward to working alongside Lord Voldemort and the other Death Eaters to eliminate such nonsense from Britain and beyond. With Voldemort's recent return, the Ministry of Magic was working overtime capturing suspected or rumored Death Eaters. Potter was able to identify several of the Death Eaters, having observed the actual return of Voldemort during the Tri-Wizard tournament. Among those identified were Draco's father, along with the fathers of Crabbe and Goyle. These wizards are now serving time in Azkaban, awaiting sentencing.

"Thankful father is in Azkaban?" Draco mused. "Now that's a deadly thought!"

While Draco would always publicly agree with his father, privately his father's ideas sickened him. These thoughts of elimination of Muggles and such were especially troublesome, as his disagreement certainly couldn't be shared with his fellow Slytherins. Their parents shared the same thoughts as Lucius, and were ardent supporters of Voldemort. His father could make his life bloody hell, even while imprisoned, and voicing disagreement with his father could certainly endanger the young boy's life.

"It may be a risk I'll have to take," he thought.

He was thinking back to his eighth birthday...

_He recalled his father was away on an extended business trip. Father worked for the Ministry, and was often away for months at a time. Draco complained to his mother how father never seemed to have time for him._

_Narcissa, his mother sighed, "Draco, please. Let's not go over this again. You know your father loves you and would be here if it were possible."_

_Lucius had not only missed many of his son's birthdays, but was rarely home for Christmas and other holidays._

_"Your father did send you his regards along with a gift." She smiled, handing Draco a small elegantly wrapped parcel._

_Draco excitedly tore open the paper and his excitement was replaced with disappointment as he saw a Slytherin dress robe, expertly tailored for his small frame._

_"You'll have to try that on later, Draco," his mother smiling at him. "You know of his plans for you."_

_He stared wonderingly at the green and black satin robe. "How does father know that I will be sorted into Slytherin when I begin school? What if I should be sorted into one of the other houses?"_

_"All Malfoys for generations have been sorted into Slytherin, Draco," she gently answered. "Besides, we won't need to concern ourselves with that for a few years yet, yes?"_

_Draco smiled weakly._

_Lightening the mood, "I have a special surprise for you as well, son," his mother smiling at him. "I must ask you, however to promise to keep this gift between you and I. Your father mustn't ever know of it."_

_Draco looked at her in amazement. What sort of gift could he possibly receive that had to remain a secret from his father? A Muggle toy, perhaps? Maybe the handheld video game he saw and admired recently in a storefront window in Muggle London? His father had always forbidden him to play with Muggle artifacts, or to ever have Muggle friends. Life in the Malfoy Manor was often lonely for the young boy, and his mind was reeling thinking of the surprise in store._

_The Manor was enormous, many areas still unexplored by the young boy. His mother led him down an unused corridor to a room he had never seen. Inside the tastefully decorated room was a baby grand piano._

_"Happy Birthday, Draco."_

_He gaped in amazement. He loved music, though music was generally forbidden in the Manor. The wizarding world had few composers, and those that existed played Muggle instruments. Draco now understood his mother's admonition._

_"Mother! Oh, thank you, thank you!" He jumped into his mother's arms and gave her an uncustomary hug. Draco could scarcely contain his excitement. "Will there be somebody to teach me to play?"_

_His mother, a bit apprehensive in her reply, "Yes, Professor Phinnias Howell from the University in Bath will be your tutor. He's a Muggle, Draco, so you will be on your best behavior. Absolutely no magic is to be performed in the Manor while he is present. I don't wish to perform an obliviate charm on the poor man each time he leaves. Merlin knows it was difficult enough to explain to him how to get here the first time."_

_Draco nodded his understanding._

_"Also, I need not remind you about your father. As he's not due to return for several months, you will have lessons with Professor Howell three times a week till your father returns. We will schedule additional lessons around your father's future absences."_

_Lessons went very well. Professor Howell was an exemplary instructor. Draco never failed to amaze his tutor with his progress. He had easily advanced past scales and basic chord progressions after just a couple weeks. He was a truly gifted pianist. Draco couldn't think of a time when he'd been happier. He blushed at the praise from his tutor, as this was one of the few tasks he ever truly excelled in as a child. He privately craved the attention from his tutor that his father never gave him. His mother was equally proud. Draco practiced relentlessly whenever his father was away, and no mention of the piano was made whatsoever while he was home._

_Professor Howell did find it odd that Narcissa had instructed him that he was never, under any circumstance to come to the Manor, nor contact the family uninvited. If his services were required, he would receive a call each day. Narcissa faithfully went to Wiltshire each day that Draco would have a lesson, telephoning the Professor to come. Despite the inconvenience of last minute notification, Professor Howell did not object, as he was paid very handsomely for his services. Lack of a call immediately terminated their contract. The stealth lessons, all hidden from Lucius, continued for the next two years whenever he was out of town for more than a few weeks at a time._

_To Professor Howell and Narcissa's surprise, it was discovered that Draco also had a fabulous singing voice. He had advanced to not only playing the classics from Beethoven and Chopin, but more contemporary music such as the Beatles, Rolling Stones, and Elton John. Though the classics were lovely, Draco favored the contemporary music where he could sing while playing._

_True terror and tragedy struck late one afternoon as Lucius apparated quite unexpectedly in the entryway of the Manor. Professor Howell had left not an hour earlier, and Draco was practicing his latest lessons unaware of his father's sudden appearance in the doorway. Draco's mother, also unaware of Lucius' sudden appearance was sitting, listening to him play._

_"DRACO, NARCISSA," Lucius screamed. "WHAT IN BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?"_

_"Father, I didn't realize you were home. I'm practicing my piano lessons," Draco replied weakly._

_Narcissa, quickly putting herself between Draco and Lucius was pushed aside by her husband._

_"HOW LONG HAS THIS EFFING MUGGLE INSTRUMENT BEEN IN MY HOUSE?" roared Lucius._

_Narcissa, replying timidly, "It was a birthday gift to Draco from me two years ago."_

_"YOU GAVE HIM A BLOODY PIANO – A EFFING MUGGLE INSTRUMENT WITHOUT MY KNOWLEDGE, AND THEN CHOSE TO DECIEVE ME OF ITS PRESENCE FOR TWO YEARS?"_

_Narcissa had no reply._

_Draco had never seen his father in such a rage. Lucius pulled his wand from his robes shouting, "INFLAMARE!"_

_The piano literally exploded in a ball of fire. It extinguished itself leaving a mass of burnt wood and tangled wire._

_"NO!! Father, please!" Draco cried, tears streaming down his face._

_Lucius then turned his wand on his son, "CRUCIO!"_

_Just as Narcissa uttered a scream of disbelief, he immediately turned on her, "CRUCIO! OBLIVIATE!"_

_Draco and his mother were thrown to the wall from the force of the unforgivable curse, both crying out in utter agony. Narcissa however would have no memory of this argument, the curse, nor would she ever remember the accomplishments Draco made at the piano or his singing. Lucius had no plans, however that Draco should ever forget. He would ensure that Draco completely understood who was in control, and that he would understand completely what was expected of him._

_"You will learn to never disobey me, Draco."_

_Lucius then left the room as his family cried out in agony._

_Thankfully his father never learned of Professor Howell. Draco was later able to visit the professor at the University in Bath. His mother was confused when he asked to visit the University, having no memory of the piano or the lessons with Professor Howell. Fortunately, she agreed to take him._

_Draco entered Professor Howell's office. After shaking hands and exchanging some pleasantries, Draco listened as the professor voiced his great disappointment in not hearing from him. Draco apologized, sadly walked to the door and pulled out his wand._

_"Obliviate."_

_Professor Howell had a sudden look of confusion._

_"May I help you, son?"_

_Any knowledge Professor Howell held of Draco, their lessons, and the Manor was forever wiped from his memory._

_Tears were streaming down his face as he left the professor's office. He so wished for the comfort that he would not receive._

Lucius had destroyed one of the few things that ever gave Draco great pleasure, and he took discipline to the extreme. However, his love for his father never waned.

Yes, Lucius was well underway to ensure Draco was a mirror image of himself.

If only he weren't sorted into Slytherin five years ago. How could it possibly have been otherwise with the thoughts of his father so ingrained? If he had been placed in one of the other three houses, his father would have been angered.

"Anger is a bit mild for father," he laughed to himself. "He would have literally exploded."

Now beginning his sixth year at Hogwarts, he had grown both physically and mentally. He was about to begin a quest that could literally be fatal to him not only as a Slytherin, but from his father as well. Draco intended to make amends from past behavior, and he intended to begin with the Gryffindor Trio. He was ready to break the outer shell that had been such a part of himself since he started school at Hogwarts, and present his true self to the three people he'd always presumed enemies. There were many things that no one knew about the real Draco Malfoy.

Glancing at his watch and seeing it was nearly midnight, Draco quickly dressed. He grabbed his parchment and quill, and left the dormitory. He ignored his housemates as he exited the common room on his way to the Owlry.


	2. I Heard the Owl Call My Name

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. Only the plot is mine.

This chapter has been revised to correct tense errors as well as capitalisation of required words and phrases. Grateful acknowledgement is given to Catmint for her excellent proofreading and editing skills.

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Chapter 2  
I Heard the Owl Call My Name

Draco quietly made his way up to the Owlery in the top of the West Tower, periodically hiding behind a suit of armor or dark corner anytime he heard a noise. Students were not allowed outside the dormitories at this late an hour without express permission. At times like this, he envied Potter and his Invisibility Cloak. He especially did not intend to run into Argus Filch, the school caretaker, or his cat, Mrs. Norris. Mrs. Norris was well trained to run off to Filch for any indiscretion she observed while prowling around the castle. If caught, Filch would immediately turn him in to his House Master, Professor Severus Snape – also Hogwarts' Potions Master. Snape's detentions and punishments could be harsh, especially if he were awakened at this late hour. Draco was not quite ready to share with Snape why he was out of his room at this late hour.

Entering the West Tower, Draco sat on the floor to gather his thoughts together. It all sounded so much easier while he was in his bed. His eagle owl flew down from the rafters, perched itself on his shoulders, and hooted happily.

"Hello, friend," he addressed the owl, rubbing its head. "You'll have a letter to deliver in the morning." The owl hooted its understanding.

"What the hell am I doing here?" he thought. "Oh yeah, Potty, Weasel, and the Mudblood," he chuckled. "Uh, better not write that."

Taking out his quill, he began a simple note:

_Potter, Weasley, and Granger:_

_This letter will obviously come as a complete shock to you. I ask that the three of you please meet me this Friday evening at 10:00pm in the "Room of Requirement." I trust that you remember how to find it, especially after last year's ' unfortunate' incident with Umbridge. _

_You still looking for a fight, Weasel? How about you, Potty? You'll have your chance. (Dress appropriately – I wouldn't want you to soil your only good set of robes, Weasel.)_

_Lest you think this meeting is only to allow you to let off steam, you are mistaken. I have some serious issues to discuss as well. _

_I will be alone. No teachers or students – Slytherin or otherwise know about this, nor do I intend to tell them. You have my word. I trust you will also keep this between yourselves._

_D. Malfoy_

He reread the note, satisfied with its wording. Though no longer meaning the insults, he thought they might better guarantee attendance. "That should certainly keep them guessing all week long!" he laughed.

He tied the note to his owl's leg, instructing her to deliver it during the breakfast mail call.

The trip back down to the Slytherin common room and dormitories was thankfully uneventful.

Disturbing dreams filled Draco's sleep that evening.

_He was ten years old. Even at this young age, Draco had a greater knowledge of the dark arts than most wizards three times his age. His father ensured that he had a complete knowledge of all spells, including the Unforgivables – the spells that could land their caster a sentence in Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy would often train Draco, to his dismay on the usage of the various spells using their house elves as targets. If he failed to heed his father's instructions, it was not unheard of that Draco himself was the recipient of the curses._

_Dobby, the house elf was still in their employment at the time, and Lucius would order him to stand while Draco practiced the Cruciatus curse. Draco recoiled in horror with his first incantation of the curse as the elf withered in agony on the stone floor of his father's study. His father continued to order him to repeat the curse till he was satisfied. _

_Images filled his mind of the recent piano incident, so Draco knew exactly what sort of pain the poor creature was in. He was also very well aware of the permanent effects the Cruciatus curse could have if repeated on a person._

_His father would have him perform the Imperius curse as well on the house elf, putting the creature under Draco's complete control. Lucius would have Draco order the elf to physically harm itself with sharp or hot objects._

_He had seen his father perform the Avada Kedavra curse only once on an aged house elf that was crippled and no longer able to serve. The poor thing was frightened to tears, pleading for its life. A bright green flash out of his father's wand, and the house elf was dead._

"_No wonder they're called Unforgivable curses... How could anyone use such a curse on another living creature – human, house elf, or otherwise?" Draco thought._

Turning in his sleep, the disturbing dreams continued...

_Draco was older now, perhaps 17 years old or so. He was in an unknown graveyard with his father. (Perhaps Little Hangleton - the same one where Potter saw the resurrection of Lord Voldemort...) A small boy riding a bicycle and carrying flowers crossed their path, stopping to visit one of the graves._

"_Kill him, Draco!" his father ordered._

"_Father? What?"_

"_Are you deaf, you worthless oaf? I said kill the Muggle child!"_

"_Father, no! He has done nothing wrong!"_

"_He exists, Draco! He's a Muggle! Kill the boy NOW! How do you expect to ever serve the Dark Lord if you can't even follow a simple command?"_

"_But...but father!"_

"_Draco! Do not dare defy me!"_

"_Father, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry! I cannot... I will not harm the child!" Draco began to sob._

"_Draco! You are no better than a worthless Muggle! I thought you were ready to present yourself to the Dark Lord! I thought I had prepared you to receive his Mark. I'm glad we discovered where your true loyalties lie... I am sorely disappointed."_

_Lucius struck Draco with such force that he tumbled to the ground. He stared up at his father in bewilderment, rubbing his injured face._

"_Crucio!" shouted Lucius, cursing his son._

_Draco lay on the ground writhing in agony. _

"_Father!" he cried. "Whatever could I have I done to anger you so?"_

"_You have disappointed me enough, Draco. You dare disobey me! It's obvious your loyalty is not with the Dark Lord or myself. I'm through with you! I have been far too lenient as it is! I no longer consider you my son!"_

"_Father! Please! What are you saying?" Draco cried, obviously still in incomprehensible pain from the Cruciatus curse._

"_Oh quit your whining, you worthless Muggle-loving git!" _

"_CRUCIO!" _

_The pain was excruciating – pain worse than he ever thought possible to feel. Draco withdrew within himself praying it would be over soon._

"_Say goodbye, Draco! Your disloyalty cannot be forgiven, nor can it be tolerated."_

_Lucius once again aimed his wand at his only child._

_Draco glanced up at his father from his crumpled form with a look of terror in his grey eyes. In his father, he saw only pure hatred._

"_Avada..."_

"_FATHER!!! NO!!!"_

"_Kedavra!"_

_A bright green flash, and..._

Draco woke with a start, shooting upright in his bed. Sweating profusely, and gasping for breath, he sat for a moment, realizing where he was. He made a mental note to be sure to describe this cemetery in his dream to Potter. Though he had never been there, he was certain it was the same cemetery in Little Hangleton where Potter saw the Dark Lord – Lord Voldemort brought back to life. He grabbed a scrap of parchment and quill from his bedside to scribble down a few notes, lest the memories from the dream fade.

"Oh please, please don't let that dream be a premonition of events to come!" he thought.

He got out of bed and walked to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. Fortunately, his roommates were sound asleep, oblivious to his nightmare. Any additional sleep tonight would be futile. He decided he'd spend the early morning hours finishing a potions essay for Snape in the Slytherin common room.

Draco couldn't concentrate on his essay. The events from the dream were raging war in his mind.

"I do hope that Potter, Weasley, and Granger can find it in their harts to forgive me," he thought. "Potter especially is the only one that will understand."

Draco knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Potter was telling the truth when he described the terrible events of Lord Voldemort's return during the last task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. When Potter exited the maze with Cedric Diggory's body, he knew. He hid behind a façade though; never letting his fellow Slytherins know his true feelings. How could he possibly relate to his housemates his deathly fear of the return of the Dark Lord? Many of them were anxiously waiting the time when they could serve under the Dark Lord's command. Regrettably, he laughed at Potter with the rest of them, thinking the poor boy delusional with his descriptions of the Dark Lord's return.

Though his father was currently in Azkaban, Draco wondered if the charges against him were strong enough to keep him there. Lucius had previously been cleared of all charges as a Death Eater, and Draco feared it was only a matter of time that his father would be released. Lucius held a lot of power over the Ministry.

Also, with the return of the Dark Lord, it would only be a matter of time till the Dementors switched their loyalty from the Ministry to serve him.

Draco shivered, though it was not cold in the Slytherin common room. The Friday night meeting – still three days away – couldn't come soon enough. He knew he would also have to demand a meeting with his Housemaster, Professor Snape, and the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore as soon as possible following the Friday meeting.

"It wouldn't be a bad idea to have Potter and Professor McGonagall - the Deputy Headmistress as well as the Gryffindor Housemistress attend," he thought.

At 6am, regaining full composure, he returned to the dormitory to dress for the day. Eying his roommates, he made it perfectly clear he was in no mood for conversation.

Upon dressing, Draco looked impeccable as ever. He made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

During breakfast that morning, a strange owl swooped down and perched itself between Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"That's Malfoy's owl," stated Harry with surprise. "What could she possibly have for us?"

The three of them glanced over to the Slytherin table and noticed Draco was watching them with great intent. Hermione removed the parchment from the owl's leg, and gave the owl a quick scratch on the head in appreciation. The great eagle owl hooted its acknowledgement and flew out the high windows of the Great Hall. Hermione noticed, as she was prone to do, that the letter was written in neat, perfect script. She read the letter aloud so only the three of them could hear. As she was reading, Ron and Harry periodically glanced over to the Slytherin table with bewildered expressions. Draco kept his steady stare. When she finished, Ron grabbed the letter and read through quickly himself. All three of them were now staring at Draco, though Ron had a smirk on his face as he slammed his fist into his palm repeatedly. Draco gave them a distinct nod, gathered his books, and rose from the Slytherin table.

"What do you reckon he wants?" asked Harry.

"Who cares!" stated Ron. "I'll finally get my chance to beat the ferret to a bloody pulp! He can't even avoid insulting us in a letter!"

"Please don't be too quick to get into a fight, Ron," cautioned Hermione. "I've heard some of the other girls talk of seeing him after Quidditch practice. He's apparently toughened himself up and put on quite a bit of muscle this past summer."

"Hermione, you think that I'm afraid of Malfoy? How about me? I play Quidditch too, you know!" a hint of irritation appeared in Ron's voice. "I'm not exactly a weakling."

"No, of course not... yes, but...it's just..."

"Just what? After all the horrible things he's called you the past five years? The way he's insulted my family and insulted Harry? What about that 'wear something appropriate' crap in his letter?"

"But I..."

"But what? Honestly, Hermione! I thought you'd be happy to see that git beaten down for a change."

"OK, fine! What I say apparently doesn't matter anyway! I just don't think Draco Malfoy is one to mess with. You know who his father is. Just promise me you'll be careful."

"His father is in Azkaban, Hermione, so I don't believe that's a concern. Besides, he invited _us!_ Apparently he's the one looking for injury."

"Ah guys..." Harry finally spoke up. "The way you're talking, I assume we're going to go?"

"You're darn right, mate," said Ron. "I'll DEFINITELY be there. I've waited for this opportunity for far too long."

Hermione let out a long sigh, and looked at Ron. "The way his letter is written, I'm sure there's more to this than to just pick a fight."

"Well, we'll fight first, and if he's still capable of talking, then we can listen to what he has to say."

"Boys!" Hermione mumbled under her breath.

"Well if we don't hurry up," Harry stated, "we'll have a lot more than Malfoy to be concerned with. We have double potions with the Slytherins in five minutes."

They gathered their books together, and then went straightaway to the potions lab in the lower dungeons.

--

Severus Snape, the potions master, was most intolerant with tardy students.

They entered the door of the potions classroom just as the final bell rang and took their seats.

"Tsk, tsk," Professor Snape clicked his tongue. "Though you lot _technically_ aren't late," he stared down at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, "I'd appreciate you keeping in mind that you are to be _seated_ when the bell rings. Next time will cost you each 10 points for Gryffindor."

Ron was just about ready to raise his hand in protest, but Hermione quickly pulled his arm down, giving him a cautionary stare to just let it go.

While the Slytherin students snickered loudly at Snape's reprimand, the Gryffindors just sat quietly. There was very little lost love between the houses, least of all between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Ironically, Hermione noticed that Draco Malfoy was not among those expressing pleasure at the Gryffindor reprimand. He sat at his desk quietly, hands folded, with a pensive look on his face. Draco's lack of emotion did not go unnoticed by Professor Snape.

"We will be working in teams of four for this assignment. I hope this will help increase school _camaraderie,_"addressed Professor Snape. "I trust you will be able to work without causing serious _harm or injury_ to each other."

"Longbottom, Potter, Goyle, Parkinson – Longbottom, you're team leader. Weasley, Granger, Crabbe, Malfoy – Crabbe, you're team leader." Snape continued to go down the class roster, grouping the students for the assignment. It did not go unnoticed by the class that he chose certain groups of students that would be least likely to get along with each other.

"Oh, poor Neville!" cried Hermione. The Slytherins easily intimidated Neville Longbottom, especially big oafs like Gregory Goyle. "Hopefully Harry can help him."

"Poor Neville?" expressed Ron. "Look at the lot we're working with!"

"Is there a problem with my grouping of students, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley?" inquired Snape.

"No, professor. I'm sure we'll work together admirably," Hermione answered quietly.

"I trust you will, Miss Granger."

"Your assignment will be a shrinking solution." Snape waved his wand and the potion ingredients and instructions appeared on the blackboard.

"You may begin. You will find all the necessary ingredients in the student cupboards."

Crabbe made his initial mistake in addressing his Gryffindor partners in a degrading, demanding tone. "Weasel, Mudblood, go and get the ingredients we need!"

Surprisingly, Draco immediately came to their defense. "Crabbe, you big oaf! I intend to pass this assignment if it's all the same to you! Apologize and address them properly, or so help me God..." His hand was reaching for his wand.

Crabbe recoiled in horror at the uncharacteristic outburst from his friend. "Ahhh... sure Malfoy. Whatever you say. Granger, Weasley, I apologize. Would you please get the ingredients we need while Malfoy and I prepare the cauldron and study the formula?"

Ron and Hermione left to gather the materials from the student cupboard.

"What's gotten into him?" expressed Hermione.

"Who? Malfoy or Crabbe?" answered Ron.

"Malfoy, you git! He stuck up for us! Something's wrong, Ron. He seems to have changed. I can hardly wait till Friday night to hear some answers."

"He's still going to get a bloody nose, Hermione."

Hermione look at Ron, though didn't comment.

With the ingredients gathered, they worked mostly in silence preparing the various materials for the potion.

Ron did attempt to speak quietly to Draco as they worked at their cauldron, "Malfoy, what's with that letter we received this morning?"

"In due time, Weasley, in due time," speaking so only Ron could hear. "You'll learn the whole story Friday night."

"What of the fight you mentioned?" Ron asked.

Hermione moved in closer so she could hear the conversation. Crabbe was working on the potion, alone now, quite frustrated, though Draco kept his eye on him so there were no mistakes.

"Entirely for your benefit, Weasley... your revenge for the insults that you, your family, Granger, and Potter have endured from me over the past five years. I personally no longer have any quarrel with you lot. Just understand that if you are looking to fight, I will fight back. Now please, no more mention of this. You'll know everything on Friday."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other quite bewildered.

The four of them continued working on their potion, speaking only when necessary. Though Crabbe was in charge, Draco and Hermione spoke up whenever the big oaf was about to make a mistake. Crabbe was not about to contradict Draco, and Draco chastised him severely if he had something derogatory to say to Ron or Hermione.

Snape was circling the room observing the progress of the various teams. Stopping first at Crabbe's team, he raised an eyebrow. "I seem to have misjudged how well you lot might work with each other. Please continue."

He then stopped at the team of Longbottom, Potter, Goyle, and Parkinson.

"Mr. Longbottom, what is this concoction, your team is brewing?"

"It's a shrinking solution, sir," Neville replied weakly.

"Is it now? Perhaps we should test it out on your frog?"

Neville's Slytherin partners snickered. Harry stood quietly by Neville's side.

"Please, sir, no."

"I see," Snape glowered. "Why ever not, Mr. Longbottom? Perhaps you forgot something?"

The Slytherins snickered louder.

"I don't see where this is funny, Mr. Goyle and Miss. Parkinson!" Snape stared at Goyle and Parkinson. They sobered up immediately.

"Mr. Longbottom, read line five of the formula, if you would, please."

"Add t-t-two parts of sliced ca-cat-caterpillar while s-s-stirring clockwise f-fa-fa-five times," Neville stuttered, obviously terribly nervous at being the object of Snape's wrath.

"Did you add the sliced caterpillar, Mr. Longbottom?"

"I th-think I f-forgot, sir"

"Obviously." Snape continued to stare. "As this is a NEWT level class, I would expect you could at least follow basic directions.

"Mr. Longbottom, you may explain to your group why you each will receive a zero for this assignment." With a wave of his wand, their potion disappeared. "Now, the four of you will write me an essay on twelve inches of parchment describing what the importance is of each ingredient in the shrinking solution. If you would kindly clean up the rest of your materials..."

Neville turned white as a ghost as his Slytherin partners, Goyle and Parkinson stared daggers at him. Harry tried to console him, "It's just as much their fault," he said so the whole team could hear. "As well as mine," he added weakly. "I'm sorry Neville."

Goyle and Parkinson offered virtually no assistance with the assignment, preferring to snicker whenever something was asked of them, and now they seemed to be contemplating amongst themselves at how to get back at Longbottom.

Crabbe's team fared far better, thanks to Draco and Hermione. Potions was one of Draco's best subjects, and Hermione was always one to pay great attention to detail. While Ron did help, Crabbe, though group leader, more or less stood by the sidelines unless under direct supervision. Malfoy ensured he would not ruin the assignment for them. As an extra bonus, it was among the first time that Ron or Hermione received a compliment from Snape.

"The rest of you," Snape addressing the whole class now, "ladle a sample of your potion into a flask and cork it. Put each of your names on your team sample, and set it on my desk before you leave."

As the students dropped off their potion samples and prepared to leave the classroom, Snape called, "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, May I have a word before you depart?"

"Harry, wait for us, will you?" Ron asked as he and Hermione stood beside Snape's desk. Draco walked up immediately afterward.

"Close the door, please," Snape asked.

Draco closed the door to the potions lab, then the three of them stood beside Snape's desk, wondering what he might want.

"First off," said Snape, "I must say I was impressed at how you worked together during this assignment. While you may feel that I show favoritism towards students of my own house, rest assured that it is my objective that everyone pass my class.

"Now," he continued, "it is my impression that Crabbe was not influential in completing this assignment. Am I correct?"

Draco, Ron, and Hermione nodded uncomfortably.

"I see," said Snape. "Do you care to share with me how you got over your past differences to work together as Gryffindors and Slytherins? I am not unaware that you reprimanded Crabbe on several occasions, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

"Do you have something to say, Mr. Malfoy?"

"No sir. Not at this time, anyway," Draco answered.

"I think what Draco's trying to say, sir," Hermione butted in, "is that we finally realize how important our NEWT level classes are, and it is in our best interest to set aside our past differences and work together."

"Thank you, Miss Granger for that most appropriate answer. However, I am not naive enough to believe that is the full reasoning behind the display I saw today.

"Allow me to caution you, Mr. Malfoy," Snape continued, "that is generally not advisable to threaten members of your own house. While you may certainly voice disagreement, I saw fear in Crabbe's eyes when you rebuked him. If you have personal problems to address, or problems with another student, as your Housemaster I am always available for you to speak with. I'm sure you're aware that anything you discuss with me is confidential unless it requires the attention of the Headmaster."

Draco nodded his understanding.

"Now, on a more positive note," Snape said, addressing the three of them, "while I have not yet tested your potion, it certainly appears as though you'll get an "O" on this assignment. Since Crabbe was part of your team, you may inform him, Mr. Malfoy, of the good news."

"Dismissed." Snape motioned towards the door. "And Mr. Malfoy, remember my warning as well as my invitation."

Draco, Ron, and Hermione turned to leave, thanking Professor Snape in unison.

As they left the potions lab, Harry was waiting by the door. Draco greeted each of them by their last name, nodded recognition, and walked down the hallway. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were now alone.

"What the heck was that about with Snape?" asked Harry.

"He essentially told Malfoy to watch his behavior with his housemates," Hermione said. "Malfoy actually threatened Crabbe on several occasions when he'd call Ron and I derogatory names. It was the strangest thing having Malfoy stick up for us. Crabbe looked genuinely scared."

Hermione continued, "Oh, Snape also congratulated us while he circled the room, and then again– minus Crabbe, of course – when the three of us were called to his desk. He said that is looks as though we'll get an "O" on this assignment."

"How'd your team do with Neville, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Poor Neville," Harry said. He was so intimidated by Goyle and Parkinson that he forgot some of the ingredients. Unfortunately, I wasn't much help, as I didn't notice his mistakes.

"We got a zero," Harry added, "plus an essay on twelve inches of parchment describing the purpose of each ingredient in the potion. Goyle and Parkinson were not happy at all. We'll have to watch Neville's back for him for a while, since I wouldn't put it past those two to try something."

Ron spoke up, "Wouldn't it be a hoot if Malfoy got what's coming to him at the hand of his own housemates? Making enemies with Crabbe, I mean... Goyle must be soon to follow."

"Ron," Hermione stated, "perhaps he's honestly trying to change for the better. Shouldn't we at least give him the benefit of doubt? I'm honestly worried for him now. Crabbe is probably ready to kill him."

"I don't trust him," Ron said. "Nobody changes their personality that easily. Perhaps he's heard something about the Order, and he thinks by getting chummy with us we'll share some details.

"I remember something else. He did say that he had no quarrel with us any longer," Ron added. "Yeah, I can't wait till Friday to find out what he's up to. It'll be three against one if he tries anything funny. I have my own score to settle regardless."

"Ron...!" Hermione said, quite exasperated.

"Hermione, this is for you as well! I can't just simply forget all the terrible things he said to you!"

"I wish Sirius were still here," Harry broke in. "He was pretty familiar with the Malfoy family. He might have had an idea about what's going on."

"Do you reckon we should share with the Order Draco's sudden change?" Harry stated.

"I think we should at least respect his wishes and wait till after Friday," Hermione answered. "After all, it's only three days away."

Following an uneventful Transfiguration class with Professor McGonagall, Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way to the Great Hall for lunch.

Glancing over to the Slytherin table, they noticed the chairs on either side of Draco Malfoy were empty. He didn't seem to mind. In fact it looked as though he were rather enjoying the privacy of eating alone, oblivious to the hateful stares he was receiving from his housemates. Obviously Crabbe had spread the word of his treatment in potions.

Hermione was genuinely concerned for his safety. Though his past ridicule often drove her to tears and she more often than not loathed him with a passion, she didn't wish to see him physically hurt. Though Harry and Ron would think her nutters, she considered the possibility of talking with Professor Snape. Of course that would entail sharing Draco's letter, which she was determined not to do.

"As for capabilities," she thought, "he's the best wizard in Slytherin. He'll have to take care of himself. However, should I see him in a situation where he obviously needs help...

"What am I thinking!" thought Hermione. "I'm offering to defend the boy who has tormented me and my friends for the past five years?

"But something in him has changed... I honestly think he's changed."

Hermione kept all her thoughts to herself.

"Hermione?" Ron asked in a voice of concern.

"Hmm? Oh, yes?" she answered.

"Welcome back to planet Earth. You've barely touched your lunch. Are you OK? Harry and I were a bit concerned."

"Oh, I'm sorry. My mind must have wandered. I was going over a homework assignment in my head at how to best answer the questions."

"Leave it to you, Hermione. Your brain is never far away from schoolwork."

"You noticed the Slytherin table?" Harry asked. "Looks like Malfoy has made himself a few enemies."

"Yes," Hermione answered, "and frankly it concerns me. I never wished to see him actually injured, and I'm afraid that might happen after today's events."

"Hermione, you never fail to amaze me." Ron sighed. "What you see in the physical well being of that git is beyond me."

"Ron, Harry, just promise me please that should you see a confrontation where he needs help that you'll come to his aid. I have a feeling that this meeting Friday night is terribly important, not only for him, but us as well."

"Damn, I know I'll live to regret this," Ron stated, "but yes, Hermione. Should someone decide to injure the little ferret, and Harry or I are there to see it, we'll help him.

"I'm beginning to wish I never heard the Sorting Hat sing its song about the houses coming together," Ron said.


End file.
